


Battlefield

by protectmichaelmell240



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: A bit sad, Dance! AU, Happy Ending, connor is a dancer, started as a one shot but is really Long now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13482558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectmichaelmell240/pseuds/protectmichaelmell240
Summary: Connor Murphy loved dance class. On his twelfth birthday, he has to quit. Let’s see what happens from there.





	Battlefield

**Author's Note:**

> Hey again! This started as a one shot, and it is a one shot, just a really long one. Yes, this is what I’ve been doing for the past month. I hope it’s a good one, I had fun writing it. 
> 
> TW: brief mention of self harm

Connor knew he wasn’t a good person. He knew that his sister didn’t really like him, neither did his father. Cynthia, his mother, on the other hand, could tolerate him. Connor’s only sort of ally in this battlefield of a house.

  
The family was divided. Connor’s mother would always take his side, while Zoe and his father would fight against them.

  
Like the night before. The night before Connor lay on his bed, not wanting to ever get up again. The first day that he really felt like he didn’t belong, like he didn’t want to exist anymore.

  
It had been his twelfth birthday. A majority of the day had been nice, he went to school, which had sucked, but then he got to go to dance class.

  
Dance was his escape from the world. For an hour or two, he was taught focus and perfection, and he felt that he could do it forever. The class was half an hour away from the Murphy household, so there weren’t any kids from school there.

  
Connor had taken ballet and tap. Four nights a week, and he was considering doing more. His teacher, Mrs. Kim, thought that he could go all the way to Broadway, or becoming a professional.

  
Larry, however, hated the fact that Connor did dance. Cynthia and Larry would argue for hours on end, how Connor should and should not do dance.

  
One night, Connor heard them fighting, and he creeped down the stairs.

  
“People are going to call him gay, Cynthia! He’s going to get bullied at school, because he’s the only boy who does dance!” Larry yelled.

  
Cynthia paced the room. “It’s the only place I see him happy! Just come and watch one class, just one. You’ll see how happy he is. Don’t make him quit, Larry.”

  
There was a tap on Connor’s shoulder. It was Zoe. “Wanna come back upstairs and show me the tap routine you were talking about earlier?” She whispered.

  
Connor had nodded, because he was going to be sick if he heard more of the argument. So, they both went back up to Zoe’s room, and Connor got on his tap shoes. Zoe sat on her bed, excited to watch.

  
Connor didn’t need music. He knew the dance by heart. He could feel the rhythm seeping through his bones, his limbs.

  
It started with a shuffle ball change. Then, he was off. The beauty of dance, is that if you manage to mess up, it could still look good in the end result. You can’t really do that with music, or words. If you mess up playing your instrument during a concert, there aren’t many ways for it to sound like you meant the mistake.

  
Dance is a universal language. Conveying emotion, whatever emotion you choose. People will get the point.

  
The dance was about anger. And man, was Connor angry. At his parents, at messing up his life, at everything. He danced like his tap shoes were fire, like all he knew were those steps in the routine. He danced like he was stomping on the faces of all the people who called him names.

  
He danced. And he would keep dancing until the world stopped spinning, until the sun burned itself out, until everyone he knew was long gone.

  
There were few things in life that Connor loved. Zoe and Cynthia. Reading, he absolutely loved it. And dance.

  
He wasn’t going to let someone like Larry take his life away from him.

  
So, he finished the routine in Zoe’s bedroom that night. She had clapped at the end. He smiled at her.

  
After dance class on his birthday, Connor and Cynthia drove home, like usual. Except, it was Connor’s birthday.

  
They arrived at the house, and Larry was sitting on the couch. Cynthia didn’t look too happy about that. Zoe was god knows where.

  
“Larry, didn’t I ask you to pick up a cake?” Cynthia asked.

  
Larry’s face didn’t show any sort of emotion. “Didn’t I tell you that I wouldn’t unless our son quit dance class?”

  
Cynthia scoffed. “It’s his birthday.”

  
Larry kept his eyes on the TV screen. “It’s also his life. Every day. You know how the world is, Cynthia, you know what people are like.”

  
Connor felt an argument coming, so he slinked away to his room, without saying a word to anyone. Zoe was in her room, doing homework, maybe practicing guitar, which she had just started playing. 

  
It sucked when they didn’t do anything for his birthday that year.

  
It slowly got less and less painful when they did nothing for the rest.

  
After a particularly loud screaming fest between the two Murphy parents, Cynthia climbed the stairs to Connor’s bedroom. She knocked on the door. He was reading inside.

  
Cynthia knew that she couldn’t delay the news for long. She knew that she would have to tell him at some point or another.

  
“Connor, sweetie, your father and I have been talking,” she started.

  
Connor put his bookmark in the page and set the book on the table beside him. “So I’ve heard.”

  
Cynthia smiled sympathetically at that. “Look, Connor, I know how much you love dance, I know you have talent while dancing, but, your father and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to continue.”

  
Connor, at first, didn’t believe her. “What do you mean? I can’t do dance anymore? That- no, you wouldn’t do that to me. Mom, it’s the only thing I love doing!”

  
Tears glistened in both of their eyes. Cynthia had lost the battle for her son. She had given up.

  
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ll call Mrs. Kim tomorrow and tell her the situation.”

  
Connor started to stand up, to follow his mother out of the room. “Mom, don’t make me quit, please. You can’t do this, not now.”

  
She shook her head solemnly. “There’s nothing I can do. Happy birthday, Connor.”

  
Connor stormed back into his room. _Happy birthday. Yeah, right._

  
_They can’t do this to me. They don’t control my life. What I love to do is dance, and I’ll continue to do it whether they like it or not,_ he thought to himself.

  
That was the first night Connor had snuck out. He realized that the screen on his window could easily pop off, and he could put it in his closet. Then, he opened the window, and climbed onto the roof. After, onto the great oak tree he managed to climb down.

  
Connor just went to the park and back, maybe a mile walk or so. He was gone for a few hours. While at the park, he saw kids his age, laughing and talking, having fun.

He wished he was like that. Instead of constantly ruining everything, and having to worry about his parents fighting, and trying not to get suspended from school.

  
When he finally decided to go back to the house, it was easy, as expected. He climbed back up the old oak, across the roof, through the window, and safely into his room. No one had even noticed he was gone.

  
_No one had even noticed he was gone._

  
Connor supposed that was a good thing. If Larry had found out, Connor would be in big trouble. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a bit upset.

  
No one had thought of him. He was clearly angry, at himself, at his father, at the world. Maybe that’s why his family stayed away from him. They didn’t want to get in the way of his anger.

  
There was a tentative knock at the door. Someone had come.

  
“Fuck off!” He had yelled to whoever was knocking.

  
“It’s Zoe,” a small voice said from the other side.

  
Connor sighed. He could never resist Zoe. “Come in.”

  
She opened the door, and took a few steps into the room. “I heard about what happened.”

  
Connor just stared. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to feel like the one thing he loved doing most, was being taken away.

  
His sister, whom he had yelled at countless times, insulted her to the point of her crying, and even threatened to kill. Her, of all people, wanted to comfort him?

  
“Want to help me paint my nails?” Zoe asked.

  
This was their truce, he supposed. Through the fighting parents. Whenever their parents got too loud yelling, they would distract one another. Usually it was talking about dance, or guitar, or watching a movie.

Connor had never painted anyone’s nails before. But he would be more of an idiot than he already is if he passed up on this opportunity.

  
Connor nodded. They walked back into Zoe’s purple room. Her room smelled of vanilla. It was probably lotion or something.

  
Zoe took out her black box filled with all different colors of nail polish. She picked up a green one, shaking it to see how much was left. Once deemed enough, she set the bottle down, and twisted the cap open. They sat on her floor, across from one another. Both of them were silent. They sat criss-crossed.

  
Zoe handed the bottle of open polish to Connor, and he took it carefully, so he didn’t spill any. Being a perfectionist, he painted Zoe’s nails one by one, so that they looked good when he was done.

  
Zoe was letting her nails dry before she painted Connor’s. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. But Zoe didn’t like being silent.

  
“I’m sorry about what happened. It’s not fair.”

  
“It’s not your fault. It’s Larry’s,” Connor grumbled.

  
Zoe tilted her head a little. Sort of like a puppy. “Larry? Don’t you mean Dad?”

  
Connor shook his head. “He takes away something I like, I take away something he likes. His right to be called my father.”

  
“But he is your father,” Zoe stated.

  
Connor was getting irritated. “Look, I get that he’s my father, but dance was just about the only thing I could do for the rest of my life. Be with me, or don’t be with me. I don’t care. But I’m going to continue dance, whether he likes it or not.”

  
Zoe stayed quiet. She started to paint his nails. Dark blue.

  
“How would you continue if Mom won’t drive you? How would you get money to continue?” She asked.

  
Connor shrugged while trying not to move his hands. “I have a bike. I know the way there. It’s not too far. As for the money, I have enough for a few classes, after that, I don’t know.”

  
Zoe looked at him sadly. He didn’t need her pity. So, when she finished painting his nails, he went back into his room.

  
His thoughts were not happy with him. They wouldn’t let him sleep. Connor wondered what it would be like to die. To just… cease to exist. Would people miss him? Would they remember his happy moments? Or would they just think _‘oh, Connor Murphy? The sad kid who does dance, who couldn’t control his temper? The one who threw a printer at Mrs. Grace in the second grade?’_

  
He didn’t want to be remembered as the kid who threw a printer. Or the sad kid who does dance. Well, _did_ dance.

  
When Connor couldn’t sleep, he drew or read. Tonight, he was drawing. What would he draw?

  
Suddenly, a picture came to his mind. Of what he wanted to be. What he wished he was doing. Of what he thought was the only thing that could make him happy.

  
Connor didn’t know he was crying until he was done drawing. A tear dropped onto the paper. He quickly pushed the drawing away from his face, because he wanted to save it from water damage.

  
Everything began to sink in. He wasn’t allowed to do dance anymore. His father thought this would prevent him from being bullied. Connor was bullied either way. Larry was taking Connor’s outlet, his way to relieve stress, his one good thing in this cruel world.

  
_Stop being such a baby. You like other things. Drawing, reading. Those can turn into careers,_ he thought to himself.

  
But, Connor sobbed into his pillow anyway. When he was mad, he danced, when he was sad, he danced. Happy, jealous, afraid. He danced with every emotion. He poured every last drop of his heart and soul into a performance. Mrs. Kim said that was a good mindset. It was good that he could feel so much, and portray it in a dance. She said that it captivated the audience, it made them want to see more.

  
Larry had never gone to a recital. Not a single one. Not even when they won state championships. Which, they only did once, but he still didn’t go. He would never get to see Connor, up on that stage, performing not for the audience, but for himself. He would never get Connor, he would never understand, until Larry saw him dance. Which would never happen.

  
So how can Larry understand? How could he take something away from Connor, when he didn’t even know how much it meant to Connor?

  
Connor sobbed into his pillow. No one would understand. No one would listen to his side of the story. Especially not Larry.

  
He looked at his picture. It was of him, in his tap outfit, dancing. He was the only person on the stage. But there were shadows. The shadows twisted like a tornado, down by his legs, engulfing his legs so that Connor couldn’t dance. There were tears drawn onto the small picture, and the Connor on the picture looked scared.

  
_Scared_. It was definitely the emotion to describe what Connor was feeling. The actual Connor, not the Connor in the picture, although he was scared too.  
For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to breathe. He didn’t want to be alive. He wanted to dance.

  
He couldn’t, though. His mother had taken his tap shoes, his ballet shoes, and his outfits for recitals.

  
He could dance, but he didn’t have enough space in his room. So, he cried. He cried until the sun came up, and it was time to go to school.

  
His mother knocked on the door. “Connor, time to wake up for school.”

  
He groaned, pretending to have just woken up.

  
“Mom, I don’t want to go,” he said.

  
She looked at him and bit her lip. “Well, I have yoga today and your father has work. So, you have to go. Are you feeling alright?”

  
Connor shook his head. “I feel like throwing up.”

  
She rushed over and felt his forehead. “You’re not burning up, but I can talk to your father quickly.”

  
A stomachache was the best possible way to fake being sick. If you had a headache, you could be given an Advil and be sent on your way. If you said you had a cold, she would check your temperature, and that takes a lot of acting.

  
So Connor chose a stomachache. He could hear the distant chatter from his mother, she was talking to Larry about it.

  
Larry appeared at the door. “Connor, you have to go to school. If you throw up at school, then you can come home. Come on.”

  
So, Connor got up, but he pouted. He really didn’t feel like going. 

  
But, half an hour later, he arrived at Washington Middle School. Or, as Connor likes to call it, hell. The seventh grade hadn’t been treating him well. He had mostly C’s, which was something Larry thought was stupid. He said that if Connor applied himself, the teachers won’t think he’s dumb.

  
_Well, news flash Larry, all of Connor’s teachers think he’s dumb no matter what._

  
Except his art teacher, Mr. Matzo. Mr. Matzo loved Connor’s art, and he puts just about everything of Connor’s on display. Every project, painting, sculpture. He was Connor’s favorite teacher, because he was just about the only one who actually liked Connor.

  
Except Mrs. Halert. She was the English teacher, and since Connor loved to read, and he could write a decent book report, she loved him. Those were the only classes he had A’s in. The rest were C’s.

  
As Connor walked into the school, he got a few looks. He always did, the kid with long hair and a sketchbook clutched to his chest seemed to draw attention. For what reason, Connor did not know.

  
But, he slowly walked towards his locker, despite the kids parting to let him through. They learned not to mess with him, and that was fine. He didn’t mean to hurt them, not always, but he did mean to reject them. Connor’s mindset was to reject others before they could reject him. That was the only way to not get hurt.

  
He pushed others away, when they tried to be friends. He didn’t want to hurt them, he was a monster. So, the best way to do that, was to distance himself from others.

  
Pulling his locker open, he realized he had an art project due today. The assignment was supposed to be something that represents yourself. He hadn’t done anything. But then, he realized something. Connor had that drawing from the night before in his backpack. Maybe he could use that instead of just doing something during lunch.

  
Dance does represent him, after all.  
So, Connor sulked his way through the day. Like a normal day. Eating lunch alone in the library, having fun in English. Not having fun in math.

  
Then came his last class of the day. Art.  
Connor took his assigned seat, across from Jared Kleinman, and his friend Evan. Kleinman constantly talked to Evan or made fun of Connor. Evan, on the other hand, had never talked for himself. He had chided Jared to be nice a couple of times, which Connor was grateful for. Other than that, Evan didn’t talk much.

  
When the bell rang, signaling class starting, Mr. Matzo asked everyone to take out their projects. Connor took out the picture of him dancing, with the shadows. It looked exactly like the night before.

  
Kids around the classroom were talking while Mr. Matzo got his shit together.  
Kleinman was talking about some video game that he was playing the other day. Evan didn’t say much, he just listened. Evan’s drawing was a picture of a forest, and Jared’s was a picture of a video game controller.

  
Evan’s was wonderful. A lot of detail, each tree looked different. He must have spent ages doing it.

  
Before Connor could stop himself, he spoke up. “Evan, did you draw that? It’s amazing.”

  
Evan blushed at the compliment and turned his paper over. “Thank you. I worked on it for hours.”

  
Kleinman scoffed. “Murphy, you can’t just but into our conversation like that. Besides, with a compliment like that, people are going to start thinking you’re gay. More than they already do.”

  
Connor scowled at Jared. “Maybe you should mind your own damn business.”

  
Jared looked taken aback. No one had ever stood up to him like that before. So of course, he had to be mean about it.  
“What is that a picture of anyway? A ballerina? How sweet. It’s even got angsty little shadow swirls around it, to represent your attitude. No, I get it now! The dancer represents who you want to be, which is a normal person, while the shadows are actually what represent you. Look! You’re making the person cry and taking away all of their happiness-“

  
Evan slammed his hand on the table. He never did that. He never looked angry.  
“Jared! Can you please stop being an asshole for one minute? His drawing is better than both of ours combined. Stop being mean.”

  
Evan was having trouble breathing. Jared looked at him, with no sympathy. Evan stuttered our apologies and such, how he didn’t mean to yell at Jared or anything.

  
Jared, not saying a word, got up and moved tables. Evan was still breathing heavily. He looked on the verge of tears.

  
Thank god for Mr. Matzo. Noticing Evan’s distress, he walked over to Connor and Evan’s table.

  
“Is everything alright?” He asked.

  
Evan couldn’t seem to form words. So Connor had to answer for him.

  
“I don’t know, Mr. Matzo. Jared was just- he left I guess, and now Evan can’t.. breathe? I guess?” Connor said, looking up at Mr. Matzo.

  
Mr. Matzo sighed. “Connor. Evan. Why don’t you two go for a walk. I’ll write you a pass. I’ll also take your projects. You two don’t have to present them, alright?”

  
Connor nodded and stood up. Evan did the same. They both weren’t friends. Evan was probably scared of Connor, actually. They waited for their pass in awkward silence.

Well, it wasn’t entirely silent. Evan was still breathing heavily. At least they had something in common. Kleinman had been an asshole to the both of them.

  
They also got out of presenting their projects. Which, Connor couldn’t complain about, because he hated presenting. He assumed Evan did too.

  
They walked down the hallways silently. Connor didn’t want to start a conversation, he’d probably just end up yelling at the poor kid. He was also pretty sure Evan was crying, and maybe that was something you could get away with in sixth grade, but you definitely couldn’t in the seventh. Not in class, at least. Unless you wanted to be bullied and called a baby. Evan probably had been at one point or another.

  
The sensitive ones were always easy targets. So were the ones who were different, or weird. In order to not be called names, you had to be normal. Exactly like everyone else. 

  
Screw society. Screw everything.  
“Thanks for standing up for me. You didn’t have to tell him off,” Connor stated.

  
Evan sniffled. “Someone has to keep him in line.”

  
Connor laughed. “Didn’t know you had a sense of humor. You should use it more often.”

  
He wouldn’t look up. He was still quiet.  
“Jared was my only friend. Even then, he said he only hung out with me because his mom made him.”

  
Connor couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. “I’ll be your friend.”

  
Evan looked appalled. He was probably disgusted that Connor would even think about saying that. “You- you really don’t have to, I’m fine by myself, always and it’s not like before I wasn’t alone I mean no one would want a friend that just talks and talks like I’m doing right now oh my god I’m so sorry you’re probably really annoyed sorry.”

  
Connor smirked. “It’s fine. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m sort of the class freak, so I have no friends either.”

  
Evan took his hand. Connor didn’t know why he did that, but his hands were warm.  
“Don’t call yourself a freak. You’re not,” he said, like it was that simple.

  
Connor smiled sadly. “You don’t know the things I’ve done. How many people I’ve yelled at for no reason whatsoever.”

  
Evan had wrapped his arms around Connor. “Maybe you don’t need a reason. Its okay to have a bad day, or to feel something for no apparent reason. That’s what my therapist says.”

  
Besides his mom, no one ever hugged Connor. No one ever told him that he would be okay. That his thoughts were normal, that they could be quieted over time. No one in his family had referred to a therapist as anything other than a shrink.

  
Connor had to do something. Tell Evan something, hug him back, anything.  
He pushed Evan away. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

  
The rest of the walk was silent. They didn’t talk to each other. Connor was pretty sure Evan was crying again.

  
_Wow Connor, you’ve been friends with him for about two minutes and you’ve already made him cry. What a talent._

  
His thoughts just kept getting louder and louder, he needed a way out. He needed something to ground him to the world, or else he might throw something.

  
_Another printer? Maybe you’ll be known as printer boy. Maybe you already are._

  
“I’m sorry for pushing you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m just- I’m being stupid,” Connor said.

  
Evan smiled. “You’re really not being stupid. Everyone has their reasons.”

  
Connor scowled. This kid was too optimistic. “I had no reason. That’s just the problem. I just- I can’t get close to people, because they either end up hurting me, or getting hurt by me. I can’t take my thoughts, because they constantly tell me things about myself. And I believe them.”

  
We reached the library at that point. Evan didn’t know what to say. Connor was clearly being hurt, by himself and other people. But Evan wasn’t a therapist. Evan didn’t even know Connor that well. So he couldn’t really help. Not a lot, at least. He can give Connor a shoulder to lean on, maybe some advice on what to tell his parents, but nothing else.

  
They walked into the library, because that was where their pass was written to.

Connor, personally, would’ve just roamed the halls until the day ended, but Evan didn’t want to get into trouble. And Connor didn’t want to ruin their friendship more than he eventually would.

  
Connor and Evan walked into the back, because neither of them felt like reading. They had half an hour until class ended. So they talked. Like normal friends.

  
“Kleinman is an asshole. I can’t believe you put up with him for so long,” Connor said quietly.

  
Evan shrugged. “I had no one else.”

  
“What about your parents? Or siblings?” Connor asked.

  
Evan shook his head. “My mom… she works so hard to pay for me, she’s never home. And I’m an only child.”

  
He didn’t mention a father. Connor didn’t push on that. He knew some people’s fathers were jerks, or their parents were divorced.

  
“What about you?” He asked.

  
Oh no. Talking about his family. His favorite subject.

  
“My Mom is a stay at home mom, but she’s always at yoga or whatever phase she’s going through. Zoe, she’s my sister, she hates me, all of her friends think I’m a freak, and she tells me that she would have more friends if I wasn’t such a loser. The only truce we have is when our parents are arguing. My dad is homophobic, and he also made me quit dance last night. It was- really the only thing I could enjoy doing, and see myself doing in the future.”

  
Connor refused to cry. Not over something as stupid as dance. Dance wasn’t stupid. Connor was just angry that he couldn’t do it. He was angry because of dance, so in order to make himself feel better, he was insulting it.

  
He was a bully.

  
“I’m sorry about that. Your drawing, that was of you dancing, right?” Evan asked.

  
Connor nodded. “I drew it last night. I couldn’t sleep, so that’s what I did instead.”

  
Evan purses his lips. “Well, either way, it was amazing. I don’t know how you are able to do that. I can barely draw.”

  
Connor shook his head. _What was he talking about?_ “Your drawing was one of the best I’ve ever seen, so don’t go saying that you can’t draw, or bullshit like that, because you definitely can.”

  
Connor didn’t notice, but his voice had raised. Evan shrunk back. Connor, realizing what he had done, rushed to apologize. “Sorry, Evan, I shouldn’t have yelled like that. It just- it gets to me when people put themselves down, because they’re obviously better than what they say about themselves.”

  
Evan hung his head in shame. “It’s alright, I just- sometimes I can’t help it, I’ve been doing it for so long, it’s hard not to.”

  
Connor understood where he was coming from. Hell, he was still in the phase where he was relentlessly putting himself down for every mistake he made.

  
“It’s alright. Your drawing, it was just really good. I loved it.”

  
“Thanks,” Evan said.

  
The bell rang, signaling the end of the day. With an awkward wave, both of he boys headed for their respective busses. Both of them hated the bus, but they didn’t have rides home.

  
Connor couldn’t believe how good of a day it was. He had made a friend! For the first time in years. At least, he thought he did. Unless Kleinman came back and swooped Evan away with him, because he didn’t want to hang around Connor.

  
That was probably going to happen. But for the time being, Connor was happy. He was surprised at that. He didn’t think he could be happy again after being forced to quit dance. Apparently, he was wrong.

  
He was sad over quitting dance. He really was. It felt as if here were a thousand bricks pushing down on his chest. There was, with those metaphorical bricks, a glimmer of happiness, though, which was the friend he had just managed to make.

  
Connor walked through the door of his house, only to realize no one would be home. Not even Zoe.

  
Within ten seconds, he grabbed his wallet and ran outside to his bike. He knew the way by heart. He flew across the pavement, trying to get there as fast as possible, because he knew he had about an hour before Cynthia got home.

  
Connor let out a burst of laughter. He felt free. He wished that life would always feel like the rush of air while gliding on a bike.  
He knew it wouldn’t. But let him dream.  
He skidded to a stop, his brakes screeching, not used to going so fast. He left his bike out front, and walked right on in. Mrs. Kim didn’t have a class, he knew that, because it was Thursday. Which was cleaning day.

  
Mrs. Kim looked surprised to see him. “Connor, sweetie, what are you doing here? Your mom told me you decided to quit dance?”

  
Cynthia had lied. Of course she had.

  
“Larry made me quit. He said I would make more friends if I quit, and he didn’t give me any choice,” Connor said, taking a seat at a table on the side of the room. They were always there so the parents could sit and watch.

  
Mrs. Kim scowled. “I swear, one day that man will come to his senses.”

  
Connor scoffed. “The day he comes to his senses is the day pigs fly.”

  
Mrs. Kim shrugged. “Sorry, kid. I wish I could help you out with that. The only thing I can really help you with is teaching you how to dance.”

  
Connor sighed. “You see, that’s why I’m here. I’m going to continue, but I only have enough money for a couple of classes. After that, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  
Mrs. Kim picked up a broom and handed it to him. “First of all, sweep the floor and I’ll give you two bucks. Second of all, just apply for a job here. You know my manager, Lucy, she loves you. You could help teach classes. If not, you can help clean. I’m sure there’s a job for you somewhere here.”

  
Connor nodded fiercely. “I’ll go pick up an application form. No promises, though.”  
Mrs. Kim bit her lip. “I hope we can give you the job. You are a little young for this, but I’m sure Lucy will understand the situation.”

  
So, Connor went up to the desk, and picked up an application. He filled it out as neatly as he could, and set it on the desk. Then, he swept the floor. After that was done, he rode his bike home. Luckily, when he got there, neither of his parents were home. Zoe wasn’t either.

  
Connor hoped he would get the job. If he didn’t, he had no way of getting the money for dance lessons. Nowhere else would accept a twelve year old boy. Not to work, anyway.

  
Connor sat on his bed, bored out of his mind. Usually, he would be dancing, or going to dance class, or doing something that had to do with dance.

  
Yet, he couldn’t. Connor would just have to sit and wait. Maybe he could focus on something else for a change. School? Nope. No way. Drawing? Maybe.

  
Connor couldn’t wait until he was old enough to leave.

  
Then he could make his own choices.  
And do what he wants to do.

  
Stupid Larry.  
——————————————————————  
Unsurprisingly, Connor does not get hired at the dance studio. Lucy said he was too young. Mrs. Kim offered to give him lessons for free. Connor rejected, he couldn’t do that to her.

  
He would just live without dance until he was old enough to get a job. It would be fine. Everything would be alright. Four years? Three years? He could wait.

  
In the meantime, he did lessons through videos on YouTube. He actually became good through those, he might’ve even kept up with his old class.

  
Connor still didn’t have any friends at school. Evan flocked back to Kleinman, no one knows why. Kleinman was only a jerk to him.

  
With Kleinman around, Connor couldn’t even talk to Evan.

  
That was sad.

  
Connor supposes that the rest of his life will be this way. No friends, no dance, no life. He’ll probably grow up to be a crack addict, scrounging around for every last penny until his dying days.

  
Maybe he was being a bit dramatic. He would just make it all up as he went. Go with the flow of life, and see where he ended up. At least he had a vague plan. Get a job to pay for dance.

  
He’ll just have to wait and see where he ended up  
——————————————————————  
_Four years later._

  
Connor was good. _Really_ good. YouTube tutorials showed him how to do a lot of things.

  
Now since he was old enough to get a job, he took a bus out of town. He had read online that a Dunkin’ Donuts a few towns over had a job opening. So he applied. And he got the job.

  
It was minimum wage, but he contacted Mrs. Kim, and it was enough to pay for a class a week. As long as he worked ten hours a week. Which was fine. He didn’t do anything else.

  
On his first day, they put him at the register. He talked to people easily, keeping in mind this was his only chance. He had gone through training the past week, and now he was on his own. Well, he had coworkers, but they were all doing their own thing.

  
The second day, he was making coffee and tea and other beverages for people. He liked this job, because he didn’t have to talk to anyone. Connor knew where everything was, and he knew how to make everything, so he was fine on his own.

  
After a week, his parents got suspicious. After a late shift, he came home, and Larry sat at the table, drinking coffee.  
  
“Where were you tonight, Connor?” He asked, louder than he had to be.

  
“None of your fucking business,” Connor snapped.

  
Larry rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s my fucking business! Do you know how _worried_ your mother was? Where were you?”

  
Connor started walking up the stairs. Before he was out of sight, he called over his shoulder. “I was out, you know, drinking, and smoking, because apparently that’s all I’m capable of in this house!”

  
He slammed his door. What a _fun_ time. He couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t.  
He screwed everything up. Again. No surprise there.

  
He took out his pocket knife.

  
Would anyone miss him? The only interactions that he had that were good, were at his job.

  
After a few cuts, he put the knife away. He wouldn’t die, not tonight. He had work tomorrow, and dance the next night. He had decided to do tap, because he loved tap the most as a kid.

  
Mrs. Kim was happy to hear from him again. Although he looked different, a lot different, she still knew exactly who he was.  
That made Connor happy. Mrs. Kim was like a mother to him. He’d do anything to be near her again. She had seen him at his worst, and at his best. Whenever Connor needed her, she was there.

  
Even after he ‘quit’ dance.

  
The weeks went by, dance, work, school, sleep. He had a schedule. He would argue with his parents, they would tell him to stop being angry. But he couldn’t just ‘stop being angry.’

  
His parents just didn’t get it. They never had, they never would. Connor couldn’t wait until college.

  
Speaking of college, Connor was in his junior year of high school. He had a recital coming up, Mrs. Kim let him do a solo routine. There would be college scouts there. Maybe one of them would notice him.

  
Connor wasn’t counting on it. He was just trying to survive. Besides, with his job, he had put away some money for college. Not a lot, but if he kept building it up, he could pay for it eventually. His parents didn’t expect him to go to college. No one did. But he was going to prove them all wrong.

  
Weeks flew by, and soon enough, it was summer. Connor had gotten a promotion at work, he was working full time, above minimum wage. They even trusted him in the store by himself when it wasn’t rush hour.

  
Rush hour was hell. No one could do that alone, not even the manager.

  
One day, he woke up, realizing that they had hired someone new to the store. He would have to help train said person.

  
So, he showed up at work, after taking the bus, and stepped behind the counter. He washed his hands, and stood next to his coworker, Carly. They didn’t speak outside of work, but they were friendly with each other.

  
They had to train the new worker together. Hopefully they weren’t an idiot.

  
A dark blue car rolled up. It could either be the person, or a random customer.

  
They stepped out of the car.

  
Connor knew that smug face anywhere.

  
“Oh, hell, no,” he whispered under his breath.

  
Carly shot him a look. “Know him? He works here now, so better get used to it.”

  
The bell jingled as Kleinman stepped through the door. This was the exact reason Connor went a town over to get a job. So he didn’t run into assholes from school.

  
Kleinman met eyes with Connor. He smirked. “Murphy! Didn’t know you worked here! Or had a job in general!”

  
Connor rolled his eyes. “I’m here to train you, so better play nice while you can.”

  
Kleinman stepped right into the back and made himself at home. “Right, well, not gonna happen. You know how it is.”

  
Carly started showing Jared how to do everything while Connor worked on taking people’s orders, and the drive thru. He surprisingly could do both at once.

  
The day came and went, and so did the next month. Nothing interesting seemed to happen. Jared and Connor quarreled as usual, but work was work. And dance was dance.

  
Soon enough, it was just Connor and Jared working in the store together. Things weren’t as awkward, they did bicker a bit, but they overcame it for the greater good. Which was not getting fired.

  
But one morning, Jared had brought a friend in to work. Evan.

  
Connor hadn’t really spoken to Evan since that thing happened when they were little. It was a bit awkward, and Jared was being quite mean to Evan.

  
“I know you have your tree kink thing later in the day, but you couldn’t just walk?” He had asked.

  
Evan shrunk back. His face reddened. “It’s not a-a tree kink thing Jared. It’s my job.”  
Jared snorted. “Whatever you say, man. Hey, tell your mom to tell my mom I was nice to you. She’ll pay my car insurance then.”

  
Evan squirmed in his chair, uncomfortable. “Alright, Jared.”

  
“Ugh Evan will you stop moving around? You’re giving me vertigo,” Jared said.

  
Evan immediately stopped and sat up, straight as a board. “Right, um, yes, sorry about that I was just… nervous, well, I’m always nervous but it’s the first day of my job? And I kind of might mess up a lot giving tours and stuff? So, um yea I’m sorry I was rambling again sorry.”

  
“No offense, but I don’t care. I’m just here driving you for my car insurance.”

  
Connor, for this whole exchange, watched from his place, leaning against the counter. He decided to interject, for what reason, he didn’t know.

  
“Kleinman, stop being an ass. Do your job.”

  
“But my job _is_ to be an ass. It’s kind of my trademark.”

  
“How about we make refilling the glazed donuts your trademark? That way we’re both happy and getting paid. It’s a win-win,” Connor said smoothly.

  
Jared went to refill the donuts. “Why do you have this job? To pay for weed?”

  
“Haha, you’re _so_ funny. Sadly, I want to go to this thing, maybe you’ve heard of it before, it’s called _college_.”

  
Jared laughed. “Aren’t you like. Rich, or something?”

  
Connor balled his fists. “My parents are assholes. I’m not elaborating on that.”

  
“Why not? Got daddy issues? My boy Evan over there has some too. Maybe you guys should talk, you know, become friends. The biggest losers in school, the likely yet unlikely friendship.”

  
That was it.

  
Kleinman was in for it now.

  
“You know what, Jared? I got this job not because of college, but to pay for fucking dance lessons that my dad made me quit because of assholes like you. Who called me a faggot over, and over again. That was his solution! Make me quit the one thing I loved to do most! The only thing that made me want to get out of bed in the morning! The thing that stopped me from fucking ending it all!”

  
Jared took a few steps back, he was against the drive thru window now. Connor picked up a frosted donut.

  
“Maybe if people like you were actual human beings, then I wouldn’t feel like this! I could’ve kept doing dance all along. Gotten into college for it, god knows I’m not getting in for anything else. All I’m able to do is smoke weed or cut myself or whatever you people think is okay to say about me behind my back.”

  
Connor threw the donut, it hit Jared in the face. Frosting splattered onto the window.

  
_Good_.

  
A car was in the drive thru. A mother and a daughter. They pulled away. Wonderful.  
Connor collapsed in on himself. He let himself sit on the floor.

  
_Was he breathing?_ He felt like he was dying. The oxygen wasn’t coming, and he couldn’t feel anything because _he couldn’t breathe._

  
He was vaguely aware of someone coming and kneeling next to him. The person asked if they could touch him.

  
_Could they? Did Connor want them to?_ He decided yes, he wanted to be touched and held, he wanted to _breathe_.

  
He must’ve nodded, because a body was pressed to his, and told him to go in for four, hold for six, out for seven.

  
_In for four, hold. Hold for how many? Six, yes, hold for six. Out for eight. Or was it seven? In for four, hold for six, out for seven._

  
Connor’s ears were ringing.

  
It took Connor awhile to get it right. Like five minutes. Maybe more.

  
A body was still pressed to his.

  
When he saw a blue polo shirt, he wish he hadn’t.

  
Of _course_ it was Evan. Who else would it be?

  
Connor saw Jared rushing around, trying to keep the store up and running. There was a glob of frosting on the window, from where Connor had thrown the donut.

  
Evan was giving him a concerned look.

  
Connor pushed him away. Did he feel bad? A little. Did he want Evan to come back? A little more.

  
Evan looked a bit offended, but then his offense turned right back into concern.

  
“Sorry about Jared. He can, um, he can be a bit much sometimes,” Evan said meekly.

  
Connor stood up off the floor. He felt dizzy, and clutched the counter for dear life.

  
“I’m taking my break,” he muttered before sitting in a chair in the cafe area.

  
A glass of water slid in front of him. Connor looked up to see Evan sitting across from him.

  
“Are you okay?” Evan asked.

  
“Probably not, if I’m still alive.”

  
Evan shot him a look. “Don’t think like that. That was a pretty intense panic attack.”

  
“Well, sorry for taking so long to breathe again,” Connor said.

  
Evan stared at him. Or something behind him.

  
“You shouldn’t apologize for panicking. Or emotions,” Evan replied.

  
Connor scoffed. “Says the guy who says sorry every two sentences.”

  
Evan was quick to respond. “It’s called _anxiety_ , Connor. Look it up when you get the chance. I can’t _help it_.”

  
Connor could never imagine Evan being sassy. Not that he imagined Evan all that much, but the guy was pretty quiet.

  
Evan sighed. “Look, I’m not saying you have to talk about what just happened, but that was intense.”

  
Connor shifted uncomfortably. “I guess, it’s just that, I don’t know. When I was little I did dance, and I was really passionate for it. My father made me quit, because people would always call me names. I’m trying to do it again, pay for it myself, because it’s the only shot I have at college.”

  
Evan smiled. “That’s amazing, what you’re doing. It really is. I think I remember you telling me you did dance. One time, maybe in art class? Something like that.”

  
So he doesn’t remember. Wonderful.

  
“Yea, I’m pretty sure we sat together in art class a few years back.”

  
“You two were busy making goo goo eyes at each other,” Jared added in from behind the counter.

  
Evan shot him a look. “You _really_ think you should be talking right now, Jared? Because I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. Maybe I’ll tell my mom to tell your mom that you were mean to me. Then she won’t pay for your car insurance.”

  
Jared sunk back, continuing to make an order for someone in the drive thru.

  
Evan could definitely be sassy if he wanted to.

  
“I have a recital for dance in a few weeks. College scouts will be there. I have a whole song to myself, to make my own dance, to a song of my choosing. I’ve already got the whole thing down, but it’s still a big deal to me, I guess,” Connor stood up. He should probably get back to work.

  
“What song is it to?” Evan asked.

  
Connor sighed. “It might sound cheesy or overused, but I’m doing a routine to eine kleine nachtmusik by Mozart. I usually would do tap, but this one is a ballet routine, and it’s going well.”

  
Evan looked down. “I’ve never heard that song before.”

  
Connor laughed. Everyone has heard that song before. They just don’t know the name.

  
“If you heard it, you’d know it.”

  
Evan smiled and stood up. “Jared, I have to get going, and so do you. Connor, give me the details, and I’ll definitely be at your recital.”

  
Connor’s mouth opened slightly. Evan wanted to come? To Connor’s recital? In this universe?

  
Evan gave Connor a napkin with Evan’s phone number on it. Connor texted him the date, time, and place.

  
He got back to work.  
——————————————————————  
Before Connor knew it, it was the day of his recital.

  
He wanted to tell his family, he really did, but he knew what would happen. Maybe if he just told Zoe, everything would be alright.

  
An hour before he had to leave, he tentatively knocked on Zoe’s door. He was going to tell her, even if they never had the best relationship, he was still going to do it.  
She slowly opened the door, surprised to see her brother standing there.

  
“What are you doing here?” She asked.

  
Connor ran a hand through his hair and sighed.“If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Mom or Dad, especially not dad.”

Zoe looked confused, but opened her door wider, and stepped away to let him in.

Connor hadn’t been in Zoe’s room for years, but it was still the same, purple walls, galaxy sheets.

  
Zoe sat on her bed. “If you killed someone I’m definitely telling Mom and Dad.”

  
Connor scoffed. “I didn’t _kill_ someone. This look is only to intimidate people so they don’t bother me at school.”

  
Zoe smiled. “Well, that’s good.”

  
Connor sat on the chair at her desk. “Look, I haven’t been at the house recently, like at all.”

  
She nodded. “So I’ve noticed.”

  
Connor didn’t know what he was doing. He couldn’t just barge into his sister’s room, his sister, who he’d been so horrible to in the past. He stopped going to her jazz things, so why should she go to his recital? Why would she?

  
Connor hadn’t been a brother to her, not for a long time.

  
He had been quiet for awhile. Zoe looked concerned. She shouldn’t be, she shouldn’t care about Connor after all he put her through.

  
“Connor? Is there a point to this?” She asked.

  
Connor took a shaky breath. What did he have to lose? “I have a job.”

  
Zoe looked surprised at that. “You do? Where?”

  
“At a Dunkin’ Donuts. A town over, so no one would recognize me.”

  
She nodded. “Okay. That’s cool. I’m glad.”

  
“I got a job so that, I guess, I could pay for dance classes. And I have a recital tonight.”  
It was out in the open. He couldn’t take it back now.

  
Zoe’s Eyes shimmered. “That’s awesome. I’m happy for you. I remember how upset you were when you quit, but you kept going, and you didn’t give up. I’m proud of that.”

  
Zoe didn’t have to say any of that. Connor would not have been surprised if she kicked him out and slammed the door in his face.

  
“Thank you,” he managed to squeak out.  
The silence wasn’t tense, yet it wasn’t entirely comfortable. It was awkward.

  
When Connor managed to collect himself again, he spoke. “I’m sorry.”

  
“For what?” Zoe asked.

  
He could name a few things. Specifically, or in general. He was just… sorry.

  
“For being a shit brother. For yelling at you. For telling you I wanted to kill you, or not being around a lot. For sneaking out, or making your life a living hell. I just wanted you to know. I can’t exactly help the yelling, or the not being around a lot.”

  
Zoe made her way across the room and engulfed him in a hug. 

  
Connor hadn’t been hugged in awhile. He sort of melted into her arms while wrapping his arms around her at the same time.

  
In the end of it, Zoe snuck out with him to his recital.

  
When he got there, Mrs. Kim and Lucy were running around, putting finishing touches on everything. They were fixing kids buns, making sure the groups were staying together, and that water was supplied.

  
Connor would not have survived that job.

  
Zoe ran for a seat in the audience, relatively close to the front.

  
Connor was beyond nervous. He remembered all of the steps, and he knew the song was a good choice. That wasn’t the problem.

  
The problem was, he wasn’t dancing for anything. He wasn’t dancing for anyone. With any emotion. He didn’t have an emotion to dance with.

  
What was he? Sad? Angry? Happy? He was nervous, but the one emotion you can never dance with is nervousness.

  
What would he do? He was supposed to go up there, he was going up in less than half an hour. There would be college scouts, this would be his one make or break. He needed to prove that he could actually go to college. He needed to show someone he was worthy of being here.

  
That he was going to do something.

  
Mrs. Kim came over when she saw him panicking.

  
“Connor?” She kneeled in front of him. “You can do this. I’ve seen your routine. Those scouts out there, they’re going to be _fighting_ for you. I just _know_ it.”

  
With a clap to his shoulder, she hurried away.

  
He could do this. Connor could do this.  
That was all he repeated in his head.  
It was his turn to take the stage.

  
He _had_ to do this.

  
He took his position. He had no idea what to dance for.

  
Zoe, his mind told him, dance for Zoe.

  
The first note of the song sounded, crisp and clear. The nice melody on top was swift, the harmony at the bottom was strong. String by string, the song played, the violin and cello fighting against each other in desperation.

  
Connor’s mind drifted to Evan as he danced. Was Evan here?

  
He thought about how Evan was stuck with Kleinman for all of his life. How Kleinman was a dick. How society forced gender rolls on someone, stereotypes that were taken so seriously, that kids were dying from them.

  
So, Connor danced. For the kids who were not just bullied, but the kids who stood in the background, waiting patiently for a chance in the spotlight. But they never got one.

  
He danced. For those who were not allowed to speak their minds, who were not allowed to be themselves in fear of being hurt by others.

  
He danced. For the people who forced a label onto themselves, and continued to grow within that label, until they were nothing but a stereotype.

  
He danced, until the last down bow for the last note, sung deep and echoing through the air.

  
He danced.  
——————————————————————-  
He was later told, by Mrs. Kim, that that was his best performance ever.

  
He had talked to some college scouts there, and they were interested, so he applied.

  
He got a scholarship to the Ailey school.

  
He was surprised by that, Ailey is hard to get in to, let alone get a scholarship for.  
But, he went with it. The day he got the letter was one of the best days of his life.

  
His father was mad at first, but it was overrun by his mother’s pride.

  
Sure, the family was a battleground, the family was nothing like a perfect family. They fought, they cried, they worried.

  
And sometimes, _just_ sometimes.

  
You win the battle. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, the Dunkin Donuts scene was sort of based off of real life events? One time my mom and I were at the drive thru and the workers were fighting and throwing donuts inside so. Here it is. I’m always a sucker for happy endings. Also comments and kudos make my day :)))
> 
> Tumblr- applepieforforever
> 
> Don’t be afraid to ask me some questions or talk to me! <3


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